Three AM
by chanvrerie
Summary: She contemplates leaving him there for the night and just going home, but the idea of him tailing her all day asking for a massage and a sponge bath is not that appealing.


Pepper's Office (3 AM)

Pepper sighs. It's been three hours since she's turned in her papers- three hours since she's moved from the cramped position she currently finds herself in. She wasn't tired an hour ago, so she decided to continue working since she's found herself so behind lately, but now, the long day of emails, phone calls, and appointments (plus the current lack of caffeine) is starting to make her eyelids drift. She shuts her laptop firmly, trying to convince herself that she can finish her work tomorrow and it will probably take her less time when she's fed, fully-caffeinated, and well-rested. Who was she kidding? She was never well-rested. But she packs up her papers nonetheless and decides to head home.

She hears a muted snort and jumps a bit, but then relaxes when she remembers Tony, finally giving up on pestering her, slid off his chair and onto her couch about two hours before "to rest." He was out like a light about two minutes after. Pepper smiles softly, surprised at herself for briefly forgetting. She sets down her bag and strides over to the small office couch where her boss is curled up in a little ball, hugging himself to compensate for his laziness to get up and get a blanket. His back is toward her, and his face is nearly planted in the crook of the couch's arm, apparently doing everything to keep warm. _A teddy bear and a thumb in his mouth is all he needs_, Pepper muses, laughing silently, _why didn't I get him a blanket before?_

She contemplates leaving him there for the night and just going home, but thinks better of it when she realizes the couch is probably not the best thing for his back, and, besides, the idea of him tailing her all day asking for a massage and a sponge bath is not all that appealing. So she bites her lip, bending over him quietly, trying to think of a way to make this as quick and easy as humanly possible. She can't carry him, she reasons, amused. He's Iron Man, after all; not her. So she settles for the next best thing.

"Tony. Tony. TONY." All of this is hushed, and she realizes there's no reason to whisper as they're the only ones in the titanic mansion, but speaking aloud when she's the only one awake creeps her out, so she reaches out a hand hesitatingly, hovering it over his body for a minute before finally settling on his shoulder. "Tony? Come on, wake up." He doesn't respond at all-not even to move- so she gives him a little shake. "TONY."

"Mmmhmm." He shifts now, and she feels him brush against the front of her legs. She pushes him in a little to make room as she sits behind his back so she can get closer to whisper and still be heard.

"_TONY_." This time, he turns his entire body so his back is now lying on the couch, and his face is turned up, but he makes no move to open his eyes, so Pepper knows he's still asleep. _Ugh_. Pepper releases his shoulder; the entire process is taking much longer than she'd have liked, but she can't bring herself to just yell at him or shove him off the couch. She reaches over again to shake him harder this time, but she pauses for a moment, unexpectedly struck by the unusual peace in his face always so sorely missed during the times he's awake. His mouth is relaxed, not twisted in a sadistic smirk or concentrated frown, and his forehead is smooth and free from his standard lines of worry. She suddenly feels hesitant, hating to break the peaceful sleep that Jarvis assures her has been almost nonexistent since he's been back and rouse him back into the world that calls so much age into his eyes. Then she catches herself, chides herself for her excessive sentimentality, and moves her mind back to the task at hand.

"Tony." Her hands are on both his shoulders now, and she's almost directly in front of his face. Suddenly, his eyes fly open, and she tilts her head back in surprise.

"Pepper?" His voice is hoarse and his eyes are still hooded from sleep and confusion; there's no earthly reason why he should look as amazing as he does. He twists his head, eyeing her hands on his shoulders, and she pulls back with a blush.

"Sorry," she mumbles, head downcast. "I didn't want you to-" She trails off with a wave of her hand as he pushes himself into a sitting position, pulls his legs in to make more room for her, and leans his head back on the couch.

"Mmm. I didn't mean to drift off," he says, smiling warmly- another recent thing of his she's not exactly used to- and looking around. "I was supposed to keep you company. What time is it?" His eyes are sharper now and, suddenly, they're on her, examining her from head to toe in a way that makes her feel both safe and uncomfortable.

"Like three." His words suddenly register, and she stands, smoothing her skirt and looking him in the eye. "You didn't have to do that, Mr. Stark, I was-"

"Why was it 'Tony' just a minute ago and now it's 'Mr. Stark?' Is it like a time thing for you? One minute it's my first name, but then you feel you're being unfair to my last name, so the next minute?"

She shakes her head laughingly, and tries to think of something to say to keep him in his playful mood. She desperately wants to respond with something clever, something to keep up his witty banter, but it's late and _God, I need caffeine_. And he's looking at her in that _way_, and she's just so _tired_. In truth, she's not even sure why she _ever_ calls him "Mr. Stark." He's always simply "Tony" in her mind, so she's lost.

"What would you prefer I call you?" she manages to blurt out, snatching the first thing that comes to mind. "Iron Man?"

He blinks up at her and then bursts out into surprised laughter, shocking the quiet from the mansion. He recovers and pats the cushion next to him, motioning for her to sit. She does, hesitatingly.

"If you'd like, Miss Potts," he says, still chuckling, "I won't stop you."

She's dug herself a hole, and she tries desperately to scramble out of it, responding, "No thanks, Mr. Stark, I-" But he moves closer to her on the couch, and the next thing she knows, his forehead is touching hers and they're so close he could push his lips forward an inch and they'd meet hers.

"It's _Tony_, Pepper," and she sees him grin, "_or_ Iron Man." She's so confused; she can do nothing but nod. A second later, though, her brain snaps to attention, and she moves to pull back and snatch her dignity up from its current position on the floor.

"Fine." And she turns to get up, but he's faster than her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back down. He looks around her dimly lit office, his gaze resting on her packed bag before he turns his attention back to her.

"You going home now, Pep?" he asks softly, tracing light circles on her hand and cocking his head to one side. "You look exhausted." And suddenly he's moved from playful to disconcertingly... sweet.

"I could say the same for you," she retorts, "I've heard you haven't been sleeping well lately." Then she flushes, realizing Tony doesn't know about the secret morning ritual she started when he came home-getting the coffee, then scanning the printed sheets of the overnight heart and breathing rates she's commanded Jarvis to record ever since the AI let it slip that Tony was having nightmares. She watches her boss' eyes narrow as he mutters "traitor" to the silent computer system. His grip on her hands tightens after a moment, and he looks up to hold her gaze.

"So why'd you wake me, Pepper?" There's no anger in his tone, no hint of reproach, just curiosity and that unnerving gentleness she's still allowing herself to get used to.

"I didn't... well... I thought you'd be more comfortable in your own bed," she says lamely (though truthfully), trying to find footing and gain control over their conversation, but this unfamiliar Tony is completely throwing her off.

A "hmm" is all he offers in response, and Pepper can't predict where this is headed, so she shifts nervously, her palms growing sweaty in his. He looks around the room again, releasing one of her hands to scratch the base of his neck- a habit of his Pepper refuses to let herself adore. "You were going home?" he repeats.

"Yeah," she says, pulling her other hand free and rising from the couch. She straightens her suit and flashes a smile at him, retreating behind her usual mask of professionalism. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?" The words are out before she notices the forbidden title and she cringes as she waits for the inevitable rebuke. He doesn't even seem to notice.

"Could you maybe, um, well..." He's scratching his neck again, and his eyes are glued to the floor in a way that screams vulnerability and discomfort. "Uh..."

"Spit it out, Tony," she says with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. "But if it's 'Could you make me an omelet?' or 'Perform a striptease,' the answer's no. I'm off the clock." Her smile fades as she realizes he probably didn't even hear her. "Tony?"

He rubs his neck again before he mumbles, in a tone so soft and hurried, she's not sure it ever really happened, "Could you maybe... stay?"

Pepper thought she had adequately braced herself for every possible Tony-request, storing up sarcastic responses in her mind; but for the umpteenth time that night, she finds herself speechless, trying to scan his eyes for even the tiniest glimmer of his usual impishness. He's still looking down, but the nervous fluttering of his hands and his complete refusal to hold eye contact are answer enough for her. He's not kidding.

"Tony, I-"

"I'm not trying to get you into bed, Pepper," he murmurs just as softly, finally looking up, "I just... you... I wasn't having a nightmare." She's confused for a moment, but then reality hits her hard, and she can't help but be touched. The unspoken words "because you were here" hang heavy in the air between them and Pepper makes her decision, all thoughts of her own shower, bed, and latte brushed aside by the rush of affection for the man on the couch and the urge to protect him from his own personal demons.

"Of course I'll stay."

Ten minutes later, he's climbing into bed and she's standing awkwardly at his bedside, unsure of where exactly he expects her to be.

"Um," he starts, the corners of his mouth tilting up slightly, "I know this is weird, but you clearly can't stay on the floor, and it's plain uncomfortable in a chair, so if you want to... Plus, there's always the bragging right of saying you got into Tony Stark's bed." She flushes hotly, embarrassed and not particularly comfortable with the prospect of crawling into 'Tony Stark's bed.' But playful Tony is back, and though his words are light and teasing, Pepper senses the sincerity behind them, so she nods anyway.

"Uh, yeah. Okay." And she slides in hesitantly after him, kicking off her shoes, but holding firmly onto her blazer. She clings to the edge of the bed, carefully not thinking about the warm bulk of flesh that's close enough for her to feel, but too far for her to touch. She hears a choke of a chuckle next to her, and she rolls her eyes smilingly, settling into the soft pillow.

The lights are off and the mansion is quiet; Pepper is already starting to drift off.

"Miss Potts?" Short silence. "If you want to get out of your suit and into something more comfortable-"

"Good_night_, Tony."

"Iron Man."

"Mr. Stark."

"Fine, fine. Tony." And though Pepper knows Tony tries to never let his emotions anywhere he can help it, and though she knows she isn't exactly the greatest at reading people, she _knows_ there's a smile in his sleepy voice when he says, "Goodnight, Pepper."

And though she knows he never says "thank you," she knows she can hear that, too.


End file.
